Leaving Remains
by MyGinevra
Summary: Harry and Ron, on stakeout as Aurors, encounter a strange Muggle event.


**Leaving Remains**

**or**

**Harry Potter and the Explanation of Brexit**

Harry stood in the shadow of the brick-walled building, hunched over against the cold that seemed to penetrate his bones. His Auror's cloak was wrapped tightly around him. His hood was drawn up over his head, but he was facing into the breeze and the hood didn't offer much protection; he could feel the wind ruffling his hair. He smiled, thinking about how Ginny would tell him for the millionth time how his hair would never lay flat.

"Damn, it's cold," Ron muttered next to Harry. "Why haven't they figured out how to keep us warm? I can't feel my feet."

"No magic," Harry said, stomping his own feet which were, he was sure, as cold as Ron's. "Too many Muggles around." He looked at the large crowd across the road, several hundred people, all Muggles bundled in winter coats, standing on the pavement and in the road outside a storefront with a dozen Union Jacks hung from its front and a blue banner stretched across it proclaiming, in large white letters, "Get Brexit Done! Vote Tory!" Every few minutes a Muggle woman standing on a small platform in front of the crowd would make an announcement and the crowd would cheer wildly.

"What are they screaming about?" Ron said after a particularly loud roar that actually made the two of them wince. "How come they're not inside where it's warm?" He stamped his feet. "No dark wizard is going to show up tonight. It's too effing cold, even for them."

"We have to wait until we get the signal," Harry said. "Seamus and Alicia are around the corner. They'll signal when it's time." He glanced across the road at the raucous crowd now singing "God Save the Queen." "They're screaming because of Brexit."

"What does _that_ mean?" Ron looked at him with a skeptical expression, then turned to stare across the street again. "I never heard of Brexit. They must mean breakfast, but it's not even midnight yet."

Harry grinned at him. "Yeah! You know what, you're right! That must be it .. . . breakfast. The onion. The Muggles want to get out of the European onion."

"Wait a minute. You're saying they want an onion for breakfast? And then they want to get out of it? Why don't they just have a slice of toast or a bagel?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows? And some of them want to be leaves and the others want to be remains."

He looked at his wristwatch, then cupped his hands together and blew into them. He shoved his hands back inside his cloak. "They should have signaled by now."

"Who? The leaves? There aren't any more leaves on the trees, they all fell off weeks ago."

"No. Seamus and Alicia. They should have signaled by now."

Ron peered down the road where more Muggles were walking towards them, all looking like they were in a good mood. As the newcomers approached the storefront, the crowd shouted greetings at them, then they all burst into song again, this time "Rule Britannia."

"That's a weird song," Ron said. "How can you rule a wave? It doesn't make any sense."

"I suppose," Harry replied. "Maybe the same way it make sense to eat a European onion for breakfast." A gust of wind made their hoods billow, and he hunched over even more. "I hope Ginny has a fire going when I get home."

"If we get home. At this rate we'll be here all night and I'll be frozen solid by then."

The crowd across the road broke out in another cheer. "Another leaf, I guess," Harry said.

"Nah," Ron said, "they look like remains."

"What does a remain look like?"

"Like them. Can't you tell? If they were leaves, they would be green."

"But if they were remains, they'd be skeletons with flesh hanging off the bones. Remains are corpses." Harry gave him a smirk. "You know, stiffs, carcasses, loved ones . . ."

Ron laughed. "Maybe they're onions, but breakfast onions, not European onions."

At that moment a man detached himself from the crowd and walked unsteadily towards them. He was holding a pint glass in his hand that had about an inch of porter sloshing in it. Harry and Ron put their hands in their cloak pockets where their wands were stowed, but the Muggle staggered past them to the wall behind them. The wall was blank except for a small window; past the window the building ended at a side street and around the corner, they knew, was the entrance to a pub.

At first Harry thought that the man was going to walk past them and go around the corner to the pub to replenish his pint. But he walked to the wall directly behind them and, with one hand, hitched up his jacket and fumbled with the front of his pants. A moment later they heard the sound of a small stream of urine hitting the wall.

Harry turned away and chuckled, but Ron drew back. "What in the name of Merlin? Hey!" he yelled at the Muggle, "this isn't a loo. Go do your business somewhere else."

The man turned his head and looked at Ron. He seemed, if anything, even unsteadier than when he had been walking towards them. He turned back and continued doing his business. "Stupid git," Ron muttered.

The man finally finished and Harry and Ron heard him zipping up. He walked back to them, holding the pint, and Ron started to move out of his way, but the Muggle suddenly reached out to Ron with one hand and hugged him. He patted Ron's back and put his cheek against Ron's cloak. "God bless you," he said, and started crying. "And God bless Boris!"

He staggered away and Ron made a face as he brushed off his cloak; it was slightly damp. "Who the hell is Boris?"

Harry laughed. "He's the guy who eats European onions for breakfast."

"An onion eater? Is that like a Death Eater?"

"Maybe." Harry chuckled. "I guess we should toss him into Azkaban."

Another roar erupted from the crowd; this one lasted longer. "Leaves and remains," Harry murmured. He glanced again at his watch.

"What time is it?" Ron said.

"Ten p.m. They're definitely late."

"I told you. We'll be here all night and all they'll find is two ice cubes. Maybe that Muggle can get us something hot to drink."

Harry hunched over in his cloak. His toes hurt. His nose was running. His ears felt like icicles. He thought of his warm bed and his warm wife and smiled. The crowd across the street cheered and started a reprise of "God Save the Queen." Harry and Ron stamped their feet, blew into their hands, and drew their cloaks tighter.


End file.
